This harsh judgment comes not from a cynical reaction to the buzz surrounding the Corvette, but instead as a function of GM’s past performance. Like that unfair high-school teacher who rounds down your grade because he thinks you can do better, we’re reducing the C8’s verdict from “great” to merely “good.”

But we don’t just think Chevrolet can do better, we know it can. GM’s chassis tuning is, typically, among the best in the business. It’s sometimes even the best, showing companies like Porsche and Ferrari how a car should feel and how it should respond. The last-generation, C7 Corvette Stingray was nothing short of magnificent.

The C8 isn’t quite there. It has neither the limit-handling grace of a 718 Cayman or the ESP-assisted Stealth-Fighter moves of a Ferrari 488 Pista.

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Alas by then, the race has been won. Thanks to gearing, grunt, and grip, the C8 is an astonishing straight-line performer. But the Corvette isn’t just about straight-line performance, and here’s where the mid-engine layout should pay huge dividends. And doesn’t.

Pulling 1.03 g of skidpad grip seems fine—until you realize that the base C7 Z51 managed 1.08 g six years ago. And in that car, the tester’s notes didn’t complain of plowing understeer.

Since understeer can be interpreted as “stability,” several of our editors suspected that this handling characteristic may have been engineered in on purpose by GM to ensure that C8 buyers who have never driven a mid-engine car won’t immediately wrap it around a tree. I doubt this. The violent lifts, spazzy steering flicks, and brake-stabs required to make the Corvette rotate are at odds with the new car’s delicate feel.

The steering doesn’t communicate the handling limits either, neither changing in effort as the front tires fall into understeer nor, more disappointingly, coming alive if the rear end does starts to rotate.

GM’s chassis-tuning track record is coloring our impressions here, but the previous Corvette—as well as the Alpha-platform Camaro, ATS, and CTS—seem to defy the laws of physics at their handling limits. Even if they understeer mildly, those cars’ chassis respond to miniscule additional steering inputs or slight changes in throttle position even at the absolute handling limit, making them continually adjustable. The C8 Corvette doesn’t perform this same magic trick.

Yet. Maybe it’s just a matter of tuning, or tire selection. One GM insider hinted to us that future variants of the Corvette might be less one-dimensional at their handling limits. That will be a welcome upgrade for master-level drivers trained on exotic mid-engine cars. What’s also disappointing is that the 149-foot 70-to-0-mph braking performance stopped short of matching that first C7 Stingray’s 146-foot stop—to say nothing of the several later Stingrays we tested, which stopped as many as 13 feet sooner than that.

When not at the test track, the Corvette’s interior is a quiet and smooth—but somewhat cramped—place to be. The big, dramatic waterfall of buttons is pretty to look at, but the glossy finish on the black buttons renders them unreadable in sunlight. More importantly, that design feature seriously impinges on occupant space—broad passengers on the right side have nowhere to put their arm. They’ll wind up using the driver’s armrest.

Passengers will also hate the positioning of the center-stack touchscreen, which is angled directly at the driver. Forget about asking the Corvette’s passenger to change the radio station or enter a nav destination—even if they could see the screen, they can’t reach it.

Drivers will appreciate the thoughtful layout of information on the screen, and especially the Stealth Mode, which turns off all displays and instrument panel lighting for use on dark roads, leaving only a clear digital speed readout and tiny coolant-temperature and fuel-level gauges.